History
by Dani9513
Summary: A blue rose, unnatural and symbolic. It means impossible love. He hadn't thought about her in years, but when SHIELD approaches him, looking for an expert, they're both forced to face the past. One-Shot. Rating is because I'm paranoid.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Avengers, or Lady A.**

A twenty-eight year old man sat outside a New York City coffee shop, sipping a medium black coffee. His feet rested on the table's bars as he leaned back in his chair. His relaxed position was a well-rehearsed act that he had perfected. His eyes were hidden behind black sunglasses, while three knives, two pistols, and his signature weapon were hidden by various pieces of clothing. "Agent Coulson?" He asked, hearing the man's footsteps behind him.

Sure enough, the blonde haired, middle aged man smiled through his own dark sunglasses and sat down across from the twenty-eight year old. "Barton, it's good to see you. How have you been?"

"Alright. I hear SHIELD has a job for me." Clint Barton, never one for small talk, stated.

"You'd be correct." Agent Phil Coulson said, leaning forward.

"Why me? You have your own agents. I'm just on the roaster of your unofficial agents." He asked. He had never officially became a SHIELD agent, he hated the WSC too much for that, but he did do work for Fury and Coulson occasionally. "Why can't SHIELD get their hands dirty this time?"

"Well, to be quite honest we don't have anyone that could take out the target. They're too good." Coulson admitted, pulling out a manila folder.

"Who is it?" He asked, taking the folder and setting the black coffee down.

"An old _acquaintance_ of yours." Coulson stated, watching the ex-Delta Force and Green Beret member's reaction.

The young man shook his head as soon as he saw the picture. "No."

"I will get on my knees and beg, Hawkeye. We have no one else who can take her." Coulson stated. "We'll give you two million. Half now, half after the job is done."

The young man laughed. "As amusing as the sight would be, no. Not even for ten million. Not even if you paid for my daughters college. I'm not sticking my neck on the tray."

"We'll pay for Robin's college, wherever she wants to go. Two million is the max I can do. Come on, Barton." He begged.

Hawkeye sighed. "I want that written in contract and I want to see one million now."

A check for a million slid over to him. He also received a slip of paper promising to pay for his four year olds college. "She'll be in Madrid for three weeks starting next week. A plane ticket is in the folder. You know how to hide weapons from security."

"Prejudice or not?" He asked, closing the folder. He already knew everything he needed to about this target.

"Whatever you want. Here's my card. Call me when it's done." Agent Coulson said, standing up and shaking the twenty-eight year olds hand. "Thank you, sir. Tell Bobbi I said hello."

"Will do." He said, nodding a goodbye to the agent. He opened the file and smirked. "Hello again, Black Widow."

* * *

"Where are you going?" His ex-wife, Bobbi Morse, asked via Skype as he waited for his plane to depart six days later. Bobbi ran a hand through her long blonde hair and shook her head. "Who hired you?"

"Madrid and SHILED. Relax, Bobbi, it'll be fine." Clint said, shaking his head. "How's Robin?"

Bobbi smiled sadly. "She misses you."

"Tell her I miss her too." He said, smiling. He only briefly saw his four year old every year. He never saw her when he was in the Berets, and then Delta Force happened and it was a wonder Robin even recognized his face.

"Why don't you tell her? Robin, come see daddy." Bobbi whispered to the little girl hiding in the doorway.

Robin ran over and jumped on Bobbi's lap. She hugged her stuffed animal, a hawk he had found while on duty in the Beret's, and smiled at him with her baby teeth. Her blue and gray eyes, ones she had inherited from him, stared at him. Her blond hair was in pigtails. "Daddy!"

"Hey Robin. How are ya' sweetie?" He asked, letting his natural mid-west draw come out. Bobbi leaned forward and kissed their daughter's temple.

"I okay." She paused, listening to Bobbi whisper something in her ear. Her face filled with confusion before she smiled. "Daddy! Daddy, guess what?"

"What?" He asked, smiling.

"I get to start school next week!" Robin said with wide eyes.

He flinched. "Daddy's getting old then."

Bobbi nodded. "Mommy too. They said since she turns five next month right now might be perfect. She might have to repeat kindergarten though."

He nodded and smiled. "Maybe daddy will be able to come home for your first day."

Bobbi smiled, knowing he wouldn't say it unless it was actually going to happen. "What about that, Robin? What if Daddy came home?"

"Daddy come home?" She asked, eyes wide with excitement.

He laughed, hearing the instructions for him to board. "Yes, Daddy will come home. Mommy can text me the date."

"No more bad guys?" Robin asked, tilting her head. She still thought he was in the military. Bobbi and him couldn't really tell her the truth.

Him and Bobbi both hesitated. Finally, Bobbi kissed her temple and smiled. "Not yet, but they'll come back."

"Okay." Robin said, curling in Bobbi's lap.

Clint smiled and shook his head. "Daddy has to catch the plane now."

"Bye, Daddy." She said, smiling.

"Bye, Robin. Bye, Bobbi." He said, turning off the laptop and walking towards the terminal.

* * *

Twenty-six year old Natasha Romanoff smiled coyly as her plane landed in Madrid, Spain. She knew this would be a walk in the park. Although Mother Russia had disbanded, Stalin's empire falling to pieces, she still had the KGB in her blood and the Black Widow written on her ID. Her mark was a middle aged man who had betrayed her client. He needed to be put to rest, and it just so happened he liked red heads.

* * *

Hawkeye smirked as he saw the famous Russian leave a boutique. He walked into the shop and smiled friendly at the Spaniard. "Hola! Habla Ingles?" He asked. He was fluent in Spanish, but for his cover, he wasn't.

"Si, yes. How may I assist you?" The shop owner asked.

"My girlfriend, I want to surprise her. She has been in Spain while I was serving in the military. I wanted to surprise her but I don't know where she is going. Could you please tell me what she bought the dress for so I may see her?" He asked, smiling innocently.

"American?" She asked, smiling at his nod. "Of course, how romantic! She'll be attending the charity ball this weekend. It's a masquerade. Would you like a tux?"

He smiled with satisfaction. "Of course."

* * *

Natasha Romanoff growled as she saw a bouquet of flowers on her hotel room nightstand. She stepped forward, and grabbed the card that was hidden in a bouquet of blue roses.

Blue roses are a sign of the impossible love.

She shook her head. Who sent her these? She walked over and tested the lock on her door, it wasn't broken. So, no one busted in. Then who sent them?

She growled in frustration before she noticed a little black box sitting next to the flowers. The box was empty. She shook her head and threw it on her bed before going to put the dress and mask on.

Hawkeye laughed as he saw her throw the black box on her bed in frustration. She stepped out of the bathroom and he admitted silently that she looked beautiful. Her long red curls, much longer than it used to be. She was wearing a black and white ball gown that had black sequins for the top and the bottom was cover in white. She smiled in the mirror, and grabbed her red mask. A simple mask that tied with a black string and had red and black fathers.

He shook his head and got down from the balcony.

He'd follow her to the ball.

* * *

Natasha growled in frustration. She had no idea which one was her target.

"Quieres bailer conmigo, senorita?" A man's voice purred behind her.

She froze. She knew that voice. "Hawkeye." She whispered, feeling something inside her stir. It wasn't anger, maybe it was fear. Behind her was the only man she ever fell head over heels for. The only man who knew here better than she knew herself.

"Miss me?" He asked, a smirk on her face as she turned around.

"It was you, wasn't it?" She growled.

He chuckled. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You do to." She stated, taking a step towards him so they were inches apart.

He smiled slyly. She stared as his blue and gray orbs danced around with amusement. She always did love those eyes. _Stop it, you are the Black Widow_. She chided silently.

"Let's dance, Widow. I have a few words for you." He stated.

She shook her head. "Like what?"

"Let's just say you wouldn't be here if I didn't have a reason." He said frankly.

"You were sent to kill me." She shook her head. She had heard the man she met nearly six years ago, the American soldier, was now a mercenary. Part of her found it amusing how hard the mighty fell, until she realized she was no better.

"Yes, and if you play along, I won't kill you." He stated.

She rolled her eyes. "You're enjoying this."

He chuckled. "Of course I am. I love seeing the Black Widow forced to follow my orders because she knows I am the only person in the world who can shut her down."

She growled but knew it was true. She took his outreached and hand walked out onto the dance floor. He put a hand on her back and clasping her left hand. The two swayed to the slow music. "Why did you leave?" He asked her.

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"You do to, Natasha. Why?" He continued.

She sighed and stared away. She had always dreaded this conversation.

"You slammed the door shut, told me you didn't love me, and left forever." He stated, hurt clear in his voice.

She closed her eyes. "Alexei."

"What about him?" He challenged.

"He was alive. He approached me the night before, said the leftover crew of the program was hunting me. That was proven when I saw Yelena Belova sneaking into my apartment." She said, referring to the younger Black Widow.

"What does that have to do with anything?" He asked her.

"I didn't want you to get hurt. Clint, you weren't Hawkeye then. You were a Beret. God knows they would have tortured you for information." She said, staring at him.

"You know I can take care of myself." He said, knowing she was telling the truth. She never could lie to him.

"I know, but I," she sighed. "I panicked."

"I guess you did." He whispered.

"_One step my heart breaks, one more my hands are shaking._" She whispered in Russian, remembering the old song he use to strum.

"_The door is closing and I just can't change it." _He whispered in return, kissing her cheek and handing her something. She took it and watched him walk away.

"Clint, wait." She begged.

He paused and turned to face her.

"Can we at least try to be friends?" She asked, feeling pitiful and weak.

He shook his head. "I don't think I can't take seeing you and knowing where we've been. I hope you understand." He said, turning back around and walking away.

_Blue roses indeed._ She thought bitterly. Everything made sense now. The blue roses symbolizing impossible love. The empty black box. Although, she wasn't quite sure on that one. He used to joke that she had a little black box for every man's heart that she had. Even the card in her hand, with a man's number, not his, scribbled on it.

Sighing, she called the number. She walked over to the ladies bathroom and closed the door behind her before bolting it shut. She splashed cold water on her face and bit back the tears. _What out the plans we've made? The little white house, the promise, is it all just things people say?_ His voice asked her in her head, replaying that last fight.

"Agent Coulson." A man's voice responded.

_Boy, it's been all this time and I still can't get you out of my mind_. She thought, crushed when she realized it wasn't his number. "Hello, Clint left me your number."

The man swore. "He left you my number? What did he say?"

"Nothing that wasn't personal." She responded.

"He let you live. I had a feeling he did. Damn it, I gave him one million up front too." The man said, rubbing his temples.

_No one knows it but me_. She thought. _If he's happy, I'll get through somehow_. "Who are you?"

"It's Romanoff…yes, that Romanoff!...I know…he's probably gone underground…what do we do?...alright…they aren't going to like this…Ms. Romanoff, are you still there?" The man's voice questioned.

_I thought it'd be all we ever needed._ She shook her head, having zoned out when he began to talk to someone else. "Yes."

"We'll send a plane to pick you up."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Phil Coulson, and I work for an agency call SHIELD."


End file.
